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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067190">let's make a paradise for only us two</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastone/pseuds/halfpastone'>halfpastone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Light Angst, M/M, also a sad attempt at humor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:09:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastone/pseuds/halfpastone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If only the phrase "what's your name?" didn't have two meanings. Or, Tsukishima Kei was never assigned a soulmate, but Kuroo Tetsurou seemed to think otherwise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's make a paradise for only us two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i've always wanted to write a simple, sweet (and very cliche lol) soulmate au (ؑ‷ᵕؑ̇‷)◞✧, so here we are. though you'll have to decide whether this one's simple and sweet or not~ this fic is unbeta-ed and self-indulgent cause i wanted to ramble on and on for a bit without caring about too much ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ. </p><p>even so!! i hope you like it~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>I: pretext.</strong>
</p><p>At the age of six, Tsukishima decided that life was cruel, and the world may have been setting him up for misery all along. There was this awful social standard that silently declared that having friends, being kind to everyone you met, and just being a good, honest person in general was mandatory. To his young, naive ears, this demand sounded simple.</p><p>Generosity and a few smiles go a long way, his brother used to tell him. But kids were kids, and being a kid was easy when all there was to think about was who would dominate the sandbox during recess this time. Despite his grudge against the world, he beamed back at it.</p><p>In elementary school, Tsukishima learned that something out there, somebody, who didn't like him. Or maybe he’d just been placed aside and forgotten. And in its own, wretchedly unique way, was even worse. In the great ballet of major decisions, his ticket was supposed to be stowed, but it was missing. It was the one sitting on the ground, accidentally dropped and crumpled after so many feet stepping on it without noticing. In this cruel universe, he learned that day, he really was completely and utterly alone.</p><p>When he met an enthusiastic but soft-spoken boy named Yamaguchi, Tsukishima told his first significant lie. After his parents' death, he and his brother moved from their unaffordable traditional home to a new place-- one that sat in a building and had a shower that only produced mild, lukewarm water.</p><p>His new, silently self-proclaimed best friend, with his naturally kind heart, along with the rest of the few people in his life outside of home, believed him without batting an eye. After all, this was not the type of thing people joked around about. Frowned down upon, in fact, for not taking companionship and truth when it really mattered with serious intent. And for all it was worth, Tsukishima was grateful to have Yamaguchi by his side, to stop the impending well of loneliness he wasn't sure he could survive (not that he'd ever admit either of those things).</p><p>For the first time, when he met Hinata, his long-suppressed feelings of jealousy over this matter that he deemed trivial early on in life resurfaced. Hinata had a way with expressing emotion. When he was happy and gleaming like the sun itself, the people around him felt the same. When he was sad and carried a heavy grey cloud of rain over his head, the people around him felt the same. He talked about his other half like it was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.</p><p>The day Hinata met his soulmate--a small, cat-eyed boy in the city, Hinata cried and clenched Kenma's shirt like the fabric was his lifeline.</p><p>Surprisingly, after the initial mutual hatred, Tsukishima and Kageyama got along well. Kageyama's soulmate was the Grand King, which honestly felt like another huge pain the ass to Tsukishima, and by the time they met, Oikawa had already chosen Seijoh’s ace as the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. In a way, Kageyama was just as alone in the world as Tsukishima was, rejected on day one by his soulmate and wearing a reminder of it on his wrist to look at everyday, for the rest of his life.</p><p>These were the faded thoughts swimming through his head as he listened distantly to Yamaguchi ramble on about visiting his soulmate in Tokyo.</p><p>"I hope Ella hasn't forgotten about me," Yamaguchi fretted, his arms waving through the afternoon air in worry.</p><p>At this, Tsukishima snapped back into the one-sided conversation his friend has maintained for the past ten minutes. "You'd have to be really lame for Ella to forget about you," he muttered. "Your damn name in embedded on her wrist. It’s practically impossible."</p><p>Ella Goldbound was Yamaguchi's “other half” (what a disgusting, clingy term. What were they thinking when they thought of the word—that they were writing a cheesy romance novel?), an American girl studying overseas in Tokyo for university. At first, Tsukishima despised the idea of Yamaguchi clinging to a girl who didn't deserve his freckled friend, but even his mind was quickly changed when he met her. Older than Yamaguchi, mature, with such a kind heart you'd be smoldered by it. Yamaguchi and his soulmate were none of Tsukishima's business, but he'd given the silent <em>okay</em> already and, in his mind, that gave him comfort.</p><p>"I know, Tsukki," Yamaguchi said, folding one hand over the other and then back again. "But what if I am really lame? Should I call her?"</p><p>Tsukishima knew full well just how close Yamaguchi and Ella were. Hearing his friend's doubt and constant concern made his skin prickle with something he didn't care to puzzle out. But he knew having himself as a friend was a struggle all on its own, and being just the least bit patient with Yamaguchi's anxiety was the least he could do.</p><p>So he resisted the urge to pull his headphones over his ears and sighed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>II: arete.</strong>
</p><p>His parents were not soulmates. The small letters imprinted on the inside of their wrists didn't match, not in the slightest. Tsukishima's father's other half was all the way across the ocean, an Italian woman named Riley Seth, while his mother's soulmate was a man in China called Li Fang Xiao. The subject of soulmates and destined partners was always filled with tension, and eventually, Tsukishima learned to stop bringing it up.</p><p><em>When it comes to fate, there are no mistakes.</em> That was the saying of lovers who found their soulmate and loved each other as of <em>together</em> was the only word that made sense. </p><p>According to numerous consensus done in the past decades, when names started appearing on people's wrists, there was a 99.4 percent chance of meeting your soulmate before the age of thirty. Names scratched themselves onto wrists of children at around the age of four. No later than five months after their fourth birthday.</p><p>Tsukishima's brother explained that destiny, whatever it was, determined the perfect partner for everyone. It considered everything, whether it be age, time frames, health, comparability, location, and-</p><p>
  <em>Everything.</em>
</p><p>In other words, it was nearly inevitable that you would meet your soulmate in your lifetime. It was a beautiful thought, that somewhere out there, out of 7 billion people and counting, there was someone for you, a perfect match. And one day, you would meet them, and it would be <em>all you ever dreamed of</em>. Any thought otherwise was uncomfortable, like a betrayal, and it was no wonder why so many rational people believed in the security of fate. Why wouldn't you want that?</p><p>But people like Tsukishima's parents were the mistakes in fate. Or at least, that was what he thought. For sixteen years, they were known as the husband and wife who defied fate in their small neighborhood by the mountains. The world came crashing down upon Tsukishima’s head when one day after school, when his mother came home after playing ambassador in China.</p><p>Unlike the large majority, she was part of the 0.6 percent who met their soulmate after the age of thirty. And they met, just like fate promised they would.</p><p>Tsukishima’s mother and father were divorced within a month. His father stayed with Tsukishima and Akiteru for two weeks before stopping by the grocery store to purchase a bag of rice and never returning. Tsukishima didn’t need to be told where he was to know he now lived with his soulmate Italy. Suddenly, his father’s strange ability to speak Italian didn’t seem so strange anymore.</p><p>Fate, like always, finished its job with the utmost perfection, no matter the setbacks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>III: solicitation.</strong>
</p><p>“Their captain is Kuroo Tetsurou!” Hinata exclaimed, eyes still shining after his first meeting with Kenma. “Kenma says he’s super annoying, but—hey, Daichi, you’re real good friends with Nekoma’s number one, aren’t you?”</p><p>Daichi’s jaw clenched and Suga allowed himself a nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t call us friends,” Daichi said in a slow, measured tone, “but what about him?”</p><p>In the corner of his eye, Tsukishima could see Yamaguchi’s face twist into odd expressions. Kageyama coughed up a mouthful of water. He ignored the wide eyes and jerky movements they made and took another sip of water. <em>Yeah, real subtle. Just yell it out for the people in the back, won’t you?</em> Last week, he had already heard about Nekoma’s captain, after overhearing Coach Ukai’s conversation with Takeda. (In reality, the “conversation” bordered more on a one-sided rant than civil, calm exchanges, but that was besides the point.) A jolt of surprise had cut its way up his spine and it had almost made him drop the stack of papers he’d been delivering. Despite that, hearing it again didn’t make it any less alarming.</p><p>After seeing the name on his wrist at night and during every shower he ever took outside of the volleyball club changerooms, Tsukishima had almost thought it was real. That maybe, just maybe, he would one day have someone by his side that echoed the words <em>safety</em> and <em>comfort</em>. But not a second later, he remembered the permanent marker stashed away in the depths of his locker, and his heart plummeted like a bird dropping from the sky.</p><p>Not that he would ever admit it.</p><p>No, all the nonsense of fate and destiny never concerned him, and it wouldn’t ever. There were things in the world far more important than a ridiculous name on inside of his wrist. Tsukishima still felt stupid though, even momentarily wishing for the impossible to happen.</p><p>Yamaguchi’s frantic movements finally halted, and he frowned at Tsukishima. Kageyama hit his chest and wheezed. Suga raised an eyebrow at the three of them as he folded his shirt into a neat square. Self-consciously, Tsukishima adjusted his tennis wristband while Suga watched them. “Yes?”</p><p>Suga echoed Yamaguchi’s frown. “I think Yamaguchi is trying to get your attention?”</p><p>“Oh,” Tsukishima snorted, unable to resist a jab, “thanks for pointing that out. I didn’t notice his flapping arms or the way he looked like he swallowed a sour lemon.”</p><p>Suga smiled, but Tsukishima could see the way his eyebrows twitched, as if the only thing they wanted to do was form an annoyed furrow. “It’s no problem.”</p><p>Tsukishima told Yamaguchi many things, but he didn’t see the need to inform him of this. A Kuroo Tetsurou was nothing in the great scheme of things, and he certainly didn’t have anything to do with Tsukishima, no matter what aggravating force (or lack thereof) that brought them together.</p><p>Yamaguchi didn’t say anything until they were alone, as he had promised (it was an unspoken rule; Tsukishima secretly liked that they never had to say anything aloud for the other to understand).</p><p>“It’s—” Yamaguchi began.</p><p>“Not fate,” Tsukshima finished in a firm voice.</p><p>“But, Tsukki, the name Kuroo Tetsurou is really rare! Are there even any other Kuroo Tetsurous out there?”</p><p>“Say that a little louder, won’t you?” Tsukishima snapped, even though he knew they were alone. In any other circumstance, he would have been far more patient with Yamaguchi than with any other person in his life, but soulmates was a stupid subject that he wished would just disappear.</p><p>“Isn’t it cool, though? Out of all the names in this world, you’ve got this one, and—and there’s a Kuroo right there!”</p><p>“Pure coincidence. Don’t create destiny out of chaos.”</p><p>Yamaguchi blinked. “That’s strangely poetic, Tsukki.”</p><p>Tsukishima curled his lip. “Shut up. It’s a legitimate logical fallacy.”</p><p>“Maybe you’d make really good friends or something to start with? Or maybe friends with benefits—”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“If they’re even remotely annoying, it’s not going to work out.” Maybe that was why he never got matched. <em>Surely there are people more selective than me.</em> Tsukishima felt a little sick.</p><p>He did <em>not</em> feel sick.</p><p>When they reached the split in the road where they bid goodbye, Yamaguchi called out an irritating “Just think about it, Tsukki!” that made Tsukishima want to spit back an insult. But it was late and the last thing he wanted to do was alert the neighbors of his deteriorating sanity.</p><p>In his home’s bathroom, away from the prying eyes and the curious, judgemental stares of the rest of the world, Tsukishima was safe to take off the wristband. Over the years, he had gotten used to the strange ache deep in his chest whenever the name was revealed. It never subsided; from the day he realized the name would never come to now. He used to hope, even after those first five months, he prayed to whatever god was out there that this was simply a fault. A small, insignificant error in his code of being human.</p><p>Fate made no mistakes, no slip-ups, or inaccuracies, not then, not ever. It didn’t stop him from hoping. At least, until even the dim light at the end of his tunnel faded.</p><p>It was just a name. But it was so much more than a name.</p><p>When a person met their soulmate, their destined partner, their other half, they felt whole again. Nobody ever really knew how it would feel to first make eye contact with their soulmate until they experienced it themselves. Yamaguchi described it as something akin to finding the last piece of puzzle that you thought you’d never recover again. Hinata teared up at the mention of it. Kageyama felt the world slow to an abrupt stop until Oikawa looked away.</p><p>They all just <em>knew</em>.</p><p><em>Bullshit</em>.</p><p>Tsukishima would never know.</p><p>He brushed his fingers against the name on his wrist. Written in black, by a permanent marker purchased from the local drug store. He had been seven when he chose it after a bad day at school. He was a child, but he wasn’t stupid. It would be better to write an uncommon than have someone mistake him for his soulmate.</p><p>(He’d secretly wanted to write a common name. If somebody mistook him for their soulmate, he would have taken it gratefully. He would have, if his brother hadn’t told him that it didn’t matter how many people shared the same name; it would never be the same as the real one. It caused a lump in his throat, so large and obstructive that Tsukishima had struggled to breathe.)</p><p>
  <em>Kuroo Tetsurou.</em>
</p><p>Not destined by fate, but strategically chosen by him. The only Kuroo Tetsurou to ever exist in the world could be a few miles from here, but it would mean nothing. It would be equivalent to the pencil he wrote with or a losing lottery number.</p><p>For everybody else in the world, a name on their wrist meant more than the universe.</p><p>But for Tsukishima, it was just a name.</p><p>Nothing more.</p><p>He could wallow in his annoyance at the world (or perhaps another would define it as self-pity), but that wouldn’t change a thing.</p><p>When it came down to appearances and superficial lies, it was rather to hide the name (or lack thereof) on his wrist from whoever he chose. It was like faking a smile—pull his cheeks up to his eyes and let his mouth follow. Nobody could tell the difference between something sincere or a façade when it came down to reading the soft crinkles of his eyes. But, smiling took too much of an effort, and really, writing a name on his wrist once a week was an easier sport all around.</p><p>Under the warm light of his bedside lamp, Tsukishima studied the little black letters tattooed into his skin. His eyes lingered a heartbeat longer than they usually did, and even that sent prickles of irritation running down his spine.</p><p>The thought of coming face to face with his mirage of a soulmate made the beginnings of a headache throb in his temple. Even if he was somehow exposed, which he would definitely not be, he could write it off as pure coincidence. Tsukishima’s argument was already forming in his mind: <em>my</em> name is not on <em>your</em> wrist; there are hundreds of other Kuroo Tetsurous out there; you’re delusional and not special; it’s more likely for the next frog I kiss to turn into a princess than for us to be soulmates; I couldn’t care less about fate.</p><p>The only thought that settled the nervous goosebumps forming on his arms was the knowledge that there was no way Kuroo Tetsurou’s wrist would carry his name.</p><p>(That same thought also made him want to spike a volleyball into someone’s face, and—fuck did he want it to be true, if only to end the all-consuming, estrange feeling that never stopped being cold even after seeing names on wrists all these years—but.</p><p>That was besides the point.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>IV: adhere.</strong>
</p><p>His heart leapt into the back of his throat so quickly and suddenly that the spike launched over the opposite side of the net skimmed past his taped fingers and slammed into the ground behind him. The feeling of his feet landing back on the floor sent a painful jolt through his body. In the back of his mind, Tsukishima’s mind scolded him failing to block such an easy spike, but every other part of his conscious was preoccupied by the strange tip in his body.</p><p>His back ached. It was as if he’d been standing crooked his entire life and he’d finally been set upright. Tsukishima hadn’t even noticed how much heavier one shoulder seemed until the invisible weight had been taken off.</p><p><em>Balanced</em>, a tiny, amused voice offered in his mind.</p><p>“What?” Hinata asked, confused. “Balanced what?”</p><p>It was then that Tsukishima realized that the word hadn’t sprouted from the edges of his head, but from several meters behind him, aloud. For just a moment, he forgot how to turn his head. But when he did, what he saw over his shoulder was not a team, but a single person, in the shape of scruffy bed hair and a confused smile.</p><p>“Very balanced,” the boy’s smile tilted upright, and all of a sudden it wasn’t confused but smug in a way that raised the hair on the back of Tsukishima’s neck with numb annoyance. His stare made Tsukishima uncomfortable. “Supremely balanced.”</p><p>“Ah, Nekoma’s team!” Daichi called, and the red uniforms sitting on the newcomers’ bodies registered in his mind.</p><p>
  <em>Nekoma’s team, so that must mean he’s—</em>
</p><p>Kuroo’s eyes lifted from Tsukishima and the discomfort vanished so quickly he wondered if it had ever been there in the first place. “Daichi-san, so we meet again!”</p><p>“Kenma!” Hinata abandoned his spot beside Tsukishima and rushed forward to greet a small boy with wide eyes. Their arms wrapped around each other so naturally and intimately that it felt almost rude to watch them. So Tsukishima turned away and fiddled with his taped fingers. He didn’t want to see Nekoma’s captain, Hinata or Kenma, and most definitely not Yamaguchi’s animated eyes. Actually, he didn’t want to see anything even remotely related to soulmates.</p><p>Coach Ukai shouted for a thirty-minute break for Nekoma’s volleyball team to get settled and Tsukishima picked his way into the safe haven of the changerooms.</p><p>He was folding his school uniform when he heard the door swing open. The footsteps were silent and distant behind him. Kageyama. Tsukishima never thought he would long for a passive aggressive argument with Kageyama.</p><p>“Why didn’t you block back there?” Kageyama asked, frankly and as straight to the point as ever. This was how they talked about soulmates, with subtle nudges that always bordered on annoying. But compared to the hell that he had to endure with the silence-filled conversations with his brother, talking about it with someone who was just as different as he was was almost comfortable. Almost. “That was awful.”</p><p>Tsukishima resisted the urge to frown. “It was just a mistake. Stop badgering me about it. We can’t all be perfect kings like you.”</p><p>Kageyama scowled. “Don’t call me that.”</p><p>“King,” Tsukishima muttered, quiet enough to make it seem like it wasn’t meant to be heard, but loud enough for it to clearly be heard.</p><p>Kageyama turned a blind eye on his comment and a heavy blanket of silence fell over them. They stayed like that, pretending each other didn’t exist and ignoring the awkward quiet sitting in the air. Usually, Tsukishima would have preferred this silence over talking, but with no distraction his mind drifted back to the name Kuroo Tetsurou. The letters bent over themselves and arranged themselves in new ways, and without even noticing, he’d dissected them far too many times.</p><p>“What do you think of Nekoma’s team?” Tsukishima suddenly asked. He could only rearrange thirteen letters so many times.</p><p>Kageyama didn’t reply. And then, “I don’t like them.”</p><p>“Not surprising.”</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>Tsukishima stilled. “I don’t care.”</p><p>“What do you mean you don’t care? We’re playing them.”</p><p>He reached into his locker for his headphones. “It doesn’t matter. Volleyball is just a club. Unlike you, I have a life outside of the court.”</p><p>Kageyama flashed him another scowl. “You’re just saying that because you’re not good at it.”</p><p>“Careful there, king, you wouldn’t want your face to stay that way forever.”</p><p>Kageyama didn’t reply.</p><p>Tsukishima was about to step out of the changeroom when Kageyama suddenly said, “What a funny coincidence.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Tsukishima asked, mockingly polite, even though he knew exactly what Kageyama was talking about. “No wonder you’re failing language. There’s this fun thing called <em>context</em>, ever heard of it?”</p><p>Kageyama’s indignant features twisted into something resembling pity and Tsukishima wished he never started this conversation.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>V: unsparing.</strong>
</p><p>Tsukishima’s eyelid twitched.</p><p>Hinata had been trailing after him for almost twelve entire minutes and his patience was growing thin. As they passed a window, Tsukishima glanced at the reflection, only to catch sight of Hinata’s suspicious jumpy expression. The image of it made the beginnings of a headache throb at his temples. He didn’t even want to try to guess what he was waiting to say.</p><p>Finally, after hearing a yelp from Hinata, Tsukishima whirled around, barely able to keep his mouth from warping into an ugly scowl. When he saw Hinata lying on the ground, groaning about how badly his elbows hurt from tripping, Tsukishima hissed through clenched teeth, “Stop following me, idiot!”</p><p>Hinata sniffed. “Well aren’t you even gonna ask me why I’m following you?”</p><p>“No. Get out of my sight and struggle with your math homework or something.”</p><p>“If you helped me with math, maybe I wouldn’t struggle so much—”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter! Just stop following me. I can’t stand it.”</p><p>Hinata, the little idiot, crossed his arms with a huff and glared at Tsukishima from where he sat in the grass. It was such a ridiculous sight Tsukishima didn’t think he’d ever be able to take him seriously. “Ask me what I’m going to say.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do it.”</p><p>Tsukishima sighed and wondered why Hinata wouldn’t just take the hint. He turned around and reached into his pockets for his backup pair of earbuds (Coach Ukai forbid him from bringing headphones anywhere near the gym after Nishinoya almost crushed them while diving for a ball). Arguing with Hinata was pointless and—</p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” Tsukishima yelled. Hinata had his arms wrapped around his legs and if Tsukishima just <em>happened</em> to kick him in the face than surely, he wouldn’t get detention. “Let go, you short, simpleton idiot!”</p><p>“I wanna tell you something!” Hinata shouted against the palm of Tsukishima’s pressing hand. “My nose, my nose, you’re killing my nose!”</p><p>“Then let go of me! What kind of person initiates conversations like this, god, how stupid can you get—"</p><p>“You’re squishing my nose, my poor <em>nose</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>When they did settle down, which they <em>did</em> (after being spotted by a blushing first year girl and successfully embarrassing the both of them, that is), Tsukishima dragged a disgustingly pleased Hinata into the school library and seating them down in the farthest corner available. If there was anything worse than being seen by someone doing inept things, it was being seen by someone doing inept things with Hinata. Tsukishima prayed that whatever Hinata had to say to him was worth his time and all this commotion.</p><p>“What is it,” Tsukishima muttered, flipping open the textbook he had grabbed from the shelves at random and pretended to read. It was about the behavior of a certain species of spiders (and frankly, he would much rather read about the cannibalism of spiders after mating than talk to Hinata).</p><p>Hinata cleared his throat. A horrible attempt at seeming casual. “Nice weather.”</p><p>“We’re inside a library with no windows,” Tsukishima grumbled, mood growing worse by the minute. “You wanted to talk, so spit it out.”</p><p>“Did you—” Hinata faltered. “What’s your name?”</p><p>Tsukishima felt a creep a dread, accompanied by the familiar wish of living in an alternate universe where the words <em>what’s your name</em> meant nothing more than the thing people called him. He should just get this over with. But <em>of course not</em>, because Yamaguchi and Kageyama were not ones to gossip, so the fact that Hinata was even asking him this question meant that—</p><p> “Tsukishima,” he replied. “Is your memory this bad? It’s not that hard to remember.”</p><p>Hinata scrunched up his face. Tsukishima almost scrunched up his own; who knew what Kenma saw in this. “You know what I mean.”</p><p>Tsukishima heaved a sigh. “We’re not soulmates. Stop asking. It’s—” he flipped a page of the textbook and forced out, “I’m not interested. Okay?”</p><p>“But Kuroo has your name!” Hinata hissed.</p><p>“I’m not interested,” he repeated, an ache forming in his chest that he prayed would show on his face, “Drop it.”</p><p>And, <em>god,</em> did he despise this cruel coincidence. Fate showed him a whole world of something he could never have, and it was as if maybe, just <em>maybe</em> he could have a fraction for himself, only to snatch it away and say,</p><p>
  <em>“This is not yours to keep.”</em>
</p><p>Even though he’d just begun to let himself imagine the possibilities.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>VI: gambles.</strong>
</p><p> “Hey there, weak little middle blocker,” Kuroo said, smiling his disgusting, self-assured smile. “Any chance you have an extra heart? Mine’s been stolen.”</p><p>“The waitlist for a heart transplant is about six months,” Tsukishima replied politely (as if talking with Kuroo was the most natural thing in the world, as if he could keep a straight face without feeling like he was having a heart attack). “You’ll have to hang on until then.”</p><p>“I think I’ll do just fine,” Kuroo grinned. “After all, if fate thinks we’re destined for each other, it’d sure be anticlimactic if I died before even the first kiss.”</p><p>“No, actually, I’d love to hear a story where exactly that happens.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>VII: delirium.</strong>
</p><p>If there was one thing Tsukishima was good at, it was convincing himself that all was well. </p><p>There was nothing wrong between him and his brother--he merely happened to somewhat dislike Akiteru because of certain lies and fabrications of the past. He never had a complex about his height and weight when he was a child--he knew he was tall. There was no particular passion for volleyball--it was a club and nothing more. He didn’t feel any inferior to Hinata or anybody else on the team--it wasn’t a competition and academics mattered so much more.</p><p>Likewise, Kuroo was just another person. Irrelevant and to be forgotten. Tsukishima shouldn’t be making a big deal of any of this. And he wasn’t, because he’d treat Kuroo like everyone else.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>VIII: take two.</strong>
</p><p>The second time they talked (read: Kuroo attempts to) was in the gym during the days of training camp. With Akaashi and Bokuto, who, Tsukishima quickly came to realize, resembled caretaker and trouble child remarkably well, gone for the night, they left alone. The other players remaining to clean up the scattered volleyballs sitting on the floor were dissipating, and before Tsukishima could walk out with them, Kuroo cleared his throat.</p><p>“So,” he began, “I’m assuming you drank a lot of milk as a child.”</p><p>It was such a strange thing to say that Tsukishima almost laughed. He struggled to maintain his straight face and said, “It’s easier to just say that I’m tall.”</p><p>Kuroo grinned. “That’s so generic. I’m trying to be cool here, so humor me.”</p><p>“There’s no point in that,” Tsukishima sighed. “Maybe if you tamed your bedhead you might stand a chance.”</p><p>“I think my hair’s amazing!” Kuroo frowned and touched his hair. He brushed it back with a careful hand, as if he’d never noticed it before. “You could at least pretend to be starstruck, Tsukki.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Tsukishima said automatically, even though he knew it wouldn’t help him in the least. Yamaguchi used to be the only person besides his relatives who would ever call him anything other than Tsukishima, but that changed before he could even realize it. </p><p>Kuroo hummed. “What about Tsukki-chan? Glasses. Four eyes. Tsukki sounds cute.” He squinted at Tsukishima. “But you’re probably the opposite of cute. No worries, I’ll always think you’re the cutest. How tall are you anyway?”</p><p>“188.3.” </p><p>“Well,” Kuroo scrunched up his nose. “I guess height doesn’t determine who’s top.”</p><p>“<em>Excuse</em> me?”</p><p>Kuroo smiled, wide and innocent. “Like I said, no worries.”</p><p>Soulmate or not, either way, Tsukishima would never allow himself to be seen within a meter of this guy ever again. Without a reply, he dumped the last few volleyballs into the cart and let another boy in a jersey wheel it away with a thank you. When he scanned the gym and realized Kuroo was nowhere to be seen, he breathed out a sigh of relief.</p><p>It quickly disappeared when a head of bed hair poked in the doorway. Kuroo raised his eyebrows. “You should be nice to me too.”</p><p>Tsukishima stalked past him, eyes aimed straight ahead despite the fact that he had close to no clue where the rest of his teammates were. Kuroo followed him. “I’m only nice to people who deserve it.”</p><p>“I guess I’m just an exception,” Kuroo said with a grin. “Would you still have come practice so late if I asked you instead of Akaashi?”</p><p>Tsukishima didn’t reply.</p><p>“Harsh,” Kuroo crossed his arms. “Give me special treatment too. Hey, aren’t I supposed to be the one receiving the special treatment? The universe seems to think we’re destined for each other. A little more destined to be right now would be preferred.”</p><p>“I’m not your s--”</p><p>“I’ll take you on as a student!” Kuroo declared, his voice a little too loud in the night air. It rang and Tsukishima wished he didn’t strain his ears to catch the smallest echoes. “Call me Kuroo-sensei.” He laughed. “Kinky. Kuroo-senpai.” He nudged Tsukishima, quick and sudden as if he’d curiously laid his hand flat on a burning stove. </p><p>Under the moonlight, Kuroo’s face that had seemed devious looked almost wistful. It wasn’t a look that suited him. Tsukishima tightened his grip on his gym bag and mumbled, “Kuroo-san is already troublesome.”</p><p>“You should be grateful to have such a wonderful mentor, Tsukki,” Kuroo said, voice severe and scolding. </p><p>But his smile was so bright with happiness that instead of insisting on his mistake, Tsukishima just looked away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>talk to me on <a href="https://aquartertohalf.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>! or just come and glare at my art~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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